A small living room in a run-down apartment building. A crucifix and a
colorful but clichéd painting on the wall. Worn sofa. Everything worn; old;
second-hand; shabby; used-up. A bath towel and a clean set of clothes have been
neatly folded on top of an out-of-date television set. A narrow hallway leads to
unseen inner rooms.

A casually dressed, middle-aged man is sitting at a table meticulously
cleaning his five-shot, Smith and Wesson revolver. Steel cleaning rods and small
white cotton cleaning patches are spread out neatly on the page of a newspaper.
Nearby is his gun-cleaning kit storage box. And a can of gun conditioner oil.
And five bullets.

Throughout the first several minutes of the play the man will occasionally
hold the revolver up to the light and check his barrel or cylinder for any
buildup of debris or sign of rust. And he will use brush, patches and oil to
clean. This opening action continues for about 30 seconds without interruption.

There is a knock at the door. The man never stops cleaning his weapon.

MAN

Yeah.

(After a pause, there is another knock at the door.)

MAN

Yeah!

(The door slowly opens and a young man dressed to the nines cautiously
enters the room. Early to mid-20's, double- breasted suit, gaudy tie,
spit-shined shoes. Like something out of a bad B- grade Mafia movie)

(He attempts to effect a cocky exterior but he is extremely nervous. He sees
the man cleaning his gun, looks around the room, then closes the door)

BOY

You left the door unlocked?!

MAN

If you say so.

BOY

What if it had been him?

(For the first time, the man glances up to look at the boy, then continues
cleaning his weapon)

MAN

Him?

BOY

The guy we've been hired to hit! He's a legend, for Christ's sake!

MAN

Legends die. Like anything else.

BOY

But he might 'a come here early and-

MAN

And what?

(For a few seconds the man stops cleaning and locks eyes with the boy. Then
he resumes his cleaning)

MAN (cont)

Don't worry, kid, he's known to be punctual.

(The boy hesitates then walks to the man and holds out his hand; the man
doesn't take it)

BOY

I'm Jimmy-

MAN

Don't tell me your name. Don't ever tell me your name. How long you been in
this business?

BOY

Uh...Lo- long time...

(He walks about the room warily)

BOY (cont)

So how long you been here?

MAN

A while...Manny hire you?

BOY

Yeah. Manny.

MAN

What'd 'e tell you?

BOY

About what?

MAN

About the hit!

BOY

Just that the guy does what we do. And that he's the best.

MAN

What do we do?

(The boy struts a bit as he speaks)

BOY

You know. Eliminate obstacles for people. Settle disputes. Solve problems.
Permanently...Like when I did the Mason hit.

MAN

You did the Mason hit?

BOY

Yeah. I did the Mason hit. You heard about it, huh?

MAN

Kid, everybody in the business has heard about the Mason hit. I heard the
shooter just brushed past his bodyguards, shot Mason and walked away. Starin' at
them the whole time. Bodyguards were too scared too react.

BOY

Yeah. Yeah, that's the way it was. Cool and daring.

(The boy sees himself in a mirror and preens a bit, straightens his tie,
etc.)

BOY (cont)

But the guy we're waitin' for pissed Manny off.

MAN

That right?

BOY

Yeah. I don't know what. But if Manny wants him dead, he must have fucked up
big time. So Manny wants it done and done right. That's why he sent me.

(The boy checks his watch. He then spots the clothes on the TV set. Touches
them)

I can see from the way you're cleaning your gun. You value cleanliness. So
you brought clean clothes; just in case you get blood on what you're wearing.

(The man stares at the boy)

BOY (cont)

Or maybe it's like a spiritual thing. You change clothes after a hit and
throw away the old clothes. Shed the old skin. Start out fresh. Right?

(The man slowly smiles)

MAN

If I were you, I'd clean my gun.

(The boy reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a semi-automatic)

BOY

Don't worry. Mine is always clean.

(He pops out the clip and slides it back in)

BOY (cont)

And ready.

MAN

It better be. This guy is the best there is. Like you said, a legend.

(The boy replaces his gun in the shoulder holster inside his jacket)

BOY

Yeah? So how come I didn't recognize him in the picture Manny showed me?

MAN

Kid, when you're recognized in this business, you're dead.

(The boy continues to walk about)

BOY

What a dump. Whose apartment is this, anyway?

MAN

I couldn't tell you, kid. It's safe enough for the hit. That's all we need to
know.

BOY

Well, I know he thinks he's coming here for a meeting. Manny told him it's a
meeting to plan a hit. (slams his fist into his palm) Hah! But what he doesn't
know is he's the target. We're the hitters and he's the hittee! This should be
fun.

(The man gives the boy a look. The boy again glances at his watch)

BOY (cont)

Shouldn't he be here by now?

MAN

He'll be here. And shouldn't you be sitting down somewhere by now?

(The boy suddenly walks toward the man; within a few steps he is very close;
His hand moves near the gun)

BOY

Hey! Tha-

(The man very quickly and expertly moves behind the boy and throws one arm
around his neck and holds a knife at his throat)

BOY (cont)

I...I was only going to say the Knicks won again! It's...it's in the paper.

(The man looks toward the newspaper and understands his mistake. He releases
the boy, replaces his knife and sits)

(He reaches into his gun kit and withdraws a silicone gun cloth. He begins
wiping down his revolver)

MAN

Sorry, kid. I thought...you know.

BOY

(rubbing his neck)

Jesus Christ, we're on the same side, ain't we?

MAN

You been in this business a long time, right?

BOY

Yeah, that's right.

MAN

Lots of hits, right?

BOY

Yeah. That's right.

MAN

So how come you talk so much?

(The boy stares at him, then sits down on the sofa)

BOY

...How come you still use a revolver?..You only get five shots with what you
got.

MAN

...Had a semi-automatic jam on me once. Almost got me killed.

BOY

I got thirteen rounds. And one in the chamber.

MAN

Doesn't matter how many rounds you got if your weapon jams. You're dead. You
die because you're semi jams, you'll end up the wrong kind of legend.

BOY

Don't worry about me. I'm gonna be the right kind of legend. The biggest
there ever was. I'm gonna be the best! A guy's name is what counts, and people
are gonna say my name with respect.

(The boy points a finger toward a lamp and pretends to fire a gun)

MAN

Bad-ass, huh?

BOY

Damn right!

MAN

And you'll get top dollar?

BOY

Fuckin' A!

(The boy takes out a pack of cigarettes, places one between his lips and
strikes a match)

MAN

This is a no-smoking area.

BOY

You're joking, right?

MAN

I don't mind dying quick with a round through the heart but I'm not lying in
a hospital bed coughing my lungs out.

(The boy hesitates then puts the match out)

BOY

Jesus Christ!

(He tries to sit still but is restless and fidgety)

(Footsteps sound in the hallway. He draws his gun and jumps up. The man
continues cleaning as before. The footsteps fade. The man glances up at the boy.
The boy, embarrassed, puts his gun away and sits down)

BOY

Shouldn't we at least lock the door? I mean, he could barge in on us and take
us out before we could react...You just gonna keep cleanin' that thing?

(The man suddenly looks toward the inner hallway of the apartment and holds
up his hand)

MAN

Shhh!

BOY

What?!

MAN

You hear anything?

(The boy jumps up)

BOY

No...I don't know.

MAN

Maybe I should have checked the other rooms.

BOY

You didn't check the apartment?!

MAN

The front door was locked. I just thought (shrugs).

BOY

Jesus Christ!

(The boy draws his weapon, leaves the room and enters the narrow inner
hallway and disappears)

(The man quickly places his bullets in his cylinder, snaps it shut and places
his revolver in a belt holster. He rises and stands just to the side of the
hallway where the boy can't see him)

BOY (o.s.)

Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ!

(The boy rushes into the living room, gun in hand; the man draws his own gun)

BOY (cont)

There's a body in the bathtub! Jesus Christ! There's blood all over the
fuckin' place! You hear me?! There's a body in the-

(In one fast, smooth movement, the man lifts the boy's gun from his hand as
he smashes his own gun down on the back of the boy's head; the boy falls to his
knees, stunned)

MAN

Don't move.

(The man places the boy's gun in his own belt and checks the boy for other
weapons. The boy holds the back of his head with both hands)

BOY

Jesus Christ! My head! Are you crazy?

(The man finishes patting him down. He finds no other weapons)

BOY (cont)

OK, I get it. He came early. You wasted him before I got here. You want to
keep all the money, right? OK. You earned it so keep it! It's yours! I'll tell
Manny I got here too late. You hadda do the job yourself. Just let me go!

(The man keeps the muzzle of the gun right on the back of the boy's head)

MAN

You still don't get it, do you, kid? The man in the bathtub was the man you
were supposed to meet.

BOY

...Then who?

MAN

...I'm the legend.

(The boy starts to turn his head but the man pushes the gun harder)

MAN (cont)

Don't turn around, kid.

BOY

How did you...

MAN

I warned you: always respect the intelligence of your opponent. You don't get
to be a legend by falling into traps. I'm not the hittee; you are.

(He cocks the hammer of his revolver)

BOY

Don't! Please!

(During the man's speech the boy begins crying)

MAN

OK, kid, here's how it works. You tried a hit; it backfired. But nothing
personal, right? No need for you to suffer. So, I'm going to send a round into
your brain. It's the fastest way to get your body to shut down. But, even then,
your heart will most likely keep pumping for a few minutes. Problem is, it'll be
pumping the blood out of your system. Like, the plug's been pulled, and the
heart's now working against itself. A brainless muscle if ever there was one,
huh? Then your body temperature falls and your system begins shutting down.
Clinical death. Biological death. End of story...

BOY

Please, no! Don't kill me! I can pay you! Just take my wallet! I'll-

MAN

You know what I noticed in this business, kid? Some guys die with their eyes
open and some die with their eyes shut. I wondered about that for years. Then I
decided that either was acceptable. God doesn't care one way or the other. But
the guy with his eyes open? I'd say he's more dead than the guy with his eyes
shut. Which are you gonna be, kid? Open or shut?

BOY

For the love of God! Don't kill me! Please! I'll pay you whatever you want!

MAN

Kid, don't take it so hard. Like I said, it's nothing personal. But if I
don't waste you now, you might come after me. Who knows? You might get lucky.

BOY

No! I wouldn't! I swear it! I wouldn't dare!

MAN

A man with all your hits might dare anything. After all, you did the Mason
hit.

BOY

I never hit anybody! I never killed anybody! This is my first time. I just
wanted to be like my uncle. He was in the business for years. I just wanted to
be like him! Please, don't! I'll never come after you!

MAN

I believe you, kid. 'Cause, you see, I did the Mason hit.

BOY

Oh, Jesus.

MAN

You had it right except you weren't there to see my semi jam up on me. I had
to use the backup revolver. That's why I won't touch a semi-automatic again.

BOY

Look, honest to God, I-

MAN

But it's like this. You being an amateur makes it even worse. Somebody teams
you up with a guy like me - a pro - and you could accidently get the pro killed
by doing something stupid. I can't allow that to happen.

(The boy sobs; his voice breaks)

BOY

No! I swear on my mother's grave! I don't want to kill anybody! I'll never do
this again! Nobody will die because of me! Please don't kill me! Please! Take my
wallet! Just let me go!

MAN

...If. If I let you go, how do I know you'll keep your word?

BOY

Mister, I swear to God! If I ever try this again, you come after me and kill
me, OK? I just want out! Please!

(The man slowly lets the hammer down)

MAN

OK, kid. That'll be the deal. You try another hit, I'll hear about it. And
I'll put a bullet through you.

BOY

Yes! Yes! But you won't have to! I swear it! Please!

MAN

...You piss your pants?

BOY

...(crying) Yes.

MAN

All right. You got ten seconds to get up and get the hell out of here. And
nine of them are gone.

(The boy jumps up and runs to the door, opens it and runs out, slamming it
behind him)

(The man stares at the door for several seconds then replaces his revolver in
his belt holster. He walks to the table and begins replacing rods and patches
and cloth back into the gun kit box)

(Suddenly from the inner hallway leading from the bathroom a middle-aged man
appears. He is soaked and dripping wet. His clothes appear to be covered with
blood. He is carrying his (dry) shoes which he leaves near the sofa)

SECOND MAN

If I hadda stay in that bathtub one more fuckin' minute I would be dead for
real! As it is, I may have got pneumonia! I still say I could 'a just been on
the bed.

(As he speaks he grabs the clean clothes and towel from the television set
and steps back into the hallway - or behind a screen)

SECOND MAN (cont) (o.s.)

What the hell I had to be in the tub for, anyway?

MAN

I told you: it looks better.

SECOND MAN (o.s.)

Yeah, right. It looks better.

MAN

He might have checked you out on the bed. Nobody touches a body in a tub full
of bloody water.

SECOND MAN (o.s.)

That right? Well, you're the expert. But I got ketchup in my hair, my nose,
my ears... my eyes for Christ sake!..First time I ever made money playing a
corpse. How about you? You ever played a corpse?

MAN

Never did.

SECOND MAN (o.s.)

You should 'a taken the punk's wallet. I'll bet he was loaded! He offered it
to you, for Christ's sake.

MAN

I'm not a thief.

SECOND MAN (o.s.)

Well, pardon me all over the fuckin' place, but where I come from money is
money. (sneezes) See? I'm gettin' pneumonia from that tub. And it's not like I
got health insurance or somethin'.

(The man finishes packing up his gun kit and even folds the newspaper neatly
and drops it in a trash can. He sits in a chair and waits for the second man)

SECOND MAN (o.s.)

You got health insurance?

MAN

No.

SECOND MAN (o.s.)

I don't know nobody who does. Who the hell can afford it on what Manny pays?
What pisses me off is that punk kid is gonna go to college now and fuck lots'a
broads, and drink lots 'a beer and end up in business makin' a fortune - and me?
- I'm gonna croak from not havin' health insurance.

(The second man comes out rubbing his hair with the towel. He sits on the
couch and puts his socks and shoes on)

SECOND MAN (cont)

We didn't get enough.

MAN

A grand apiece to scare a kid out of the business? Seems pretty fair to me.

SECOND MAN

Yeah, a grand ain't bad. But how much did the kid's uncle pay Manny to hire
us? What's Manny's take? I mean-

MAN

I don't care about Manny's take. I don't like it.

SECOND MAN

What?

MAN

I'm good at what I do. I don't like this kind of thing. The money's not
clean.

SECOND MAN

Money's dirty to you unless you took somebody out for it?

MAN

It doesn't feel right. It feels phony.

SECOND MAN

What's phony about it?

MAN

I acted out what I am. I only pretended to do what I do. So what am I? I feel
like a whore.

SECOND MAN

(laughs)

Yeah, well, you can always give me your share. 'Cause the only thing don't
feel right to me is not havin' no money. How I got it ain't the question.

MAN

...I wish somebody had done that for me when I was his age.

SECOND MAN

Done what?

MAN

Kept me out of the business.

(The second man stares at him and shakes his head, then checks himself in the
mirror)

SECOND MAN

You?! Man, you are in some mood today. That kid must'a spooked yah. I
couldn't believe his bullshit about the Mason hit. I thought you might take him
out just for trying to take the credit.

MAN

Mason was a clean hit.

(The second man interrupts combing his hair to stare at the man, finishes
combing it, then walks to the front door and opens it)

SECOND MAN (cont)

I don't know about you but I'm blowin' this popcorn stand.

(The second man exits into the hallway. The man gets up and pauses in the
doorway to look back)

MAN

(mainly to himself; softly, seriously)

I just wish somebody had done that for me.

(He exits and closes the door)

BLACKOUT

THE END

Death of a Legend has been performed in several countries and also appeared in short story form
in the book of short stories, Bangkok Noir, and in
Blue Murder
Magazine